


As The Dawn

by musicforswimming



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien, The Silmarillion - Tolkien
Genre: Community: twicetoldfandom, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-30
Updated: 2007-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the names of the Lady of Lorien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> For [Twice Told Fandom](http://www.innergeekdom.net/Twice). Lyrics at the beginning of each section from Lisbeth Scott's "Where".

i. _with your crown_

Artanis her father called her at her birth, and true enough it was. Before all else she stood proud and tall. The stars were a wonder and a birthright, thus too the sound of water.

"Niece," her uncle said, when he came upon her in the woods one day. He caught a lock of hair in his hand and his smile kindled something dark within her. She could not liken it to any thing in her world, for she had known nothing so terrible, nothing but her uncle and the shapeless things within her heart when she was near him.

With ease she set him at her feet, and though it was not in her to glory in such small things ordinarily, she smiled to see him sprawled so, for the first time since he had come upon her.

A longing came over her, one she did not understand, but she pushed it down as she left him there in the woods. It seemed that something pulled her east, and the worst of it was that she knew she must follow it someday, and that was why she ignored it now so easily. In time she should follow it, and she could wait until then.

Upon the land she stood a noble lady; upon the land she stood.  
   
   
   
   
ii. _in the glistening of the lost and open sky_

Nerwen her mother called her later, and so she was too.

She learned the sword early, but didn't use her first blade, which was given her by her mother. She feared to use it for some years -- not out of any possibility of damage, for of course it must take more than a battle or an elf-maid's practice swings to damage such steel. It gleamed in the light, though, the light of the sky and the Trees and the world, and seemed to hold the light in miniature, and to hold light was something she did not think she could do.

But Nerwen she was when she went to Alqualonde to dwell with her mother, for awhile, anyway, and Nerwen she was when she thought of that lady, and for many years too whenever she was in the company of women or warriors -- and both, of course, but that was less common as the years went on. The years swept along, and things were forgotten; that was to be expected.

The wind tugged at her sleeves and the sea rolled; the wind was a brilliant thing, like the stars above and dancing reflected in the water below. She laughed with it, and sang her mother's songs as she worked on the deck, and gave no thought to the blade at her side. It was weightless as light.

"You are merry this morning," her dear shipwright would say, or "this evening", or "this night". She laughed each time, and kissed him once. He touched her hair then, grabbing at a lock of it that was caught in the wind that drove them.

Galadriel she was then, and all the world lay before her. She kissed him again, fiercely, without regard to their fellows on the deck.  
   
   
   
   
iii. _you mustn't forget what love can see_

When her feet met dry land the sun was new yet. There had been starlight always, of course, there had always been the holy. Sunlight was a novelty, however -- and she knew few enough of those. She delighted in it in those early years, and delighted too in the sight of Celeborn beneath it. She guessed too that the delight must be mutual, for she had seen her own reflection in sunlight and knew her beauty as she knew the sunlight and the earth.

Time waved past. She knew mortality in battle, and she was Nerwen then, which seemed fitting in any number of ways. She knew it, and Nerwen gloried in it; she might be struck down yet if she did not turn now; she might have been murdered then, but that she slew him first; she wept later, after the battle.

During, though, she was only alive, and mortal too, for even her kind could be slain in battle. She laughed with her sword in her hands (for she did not favor the bow). Her sword was heavier than it had seemed during the crossing, but the weight was a glorious thing too.  
   
   
   
   
iv. _I never imagined I could leave_

After battles she would sing, and weep. There was no shame after enough days had gone by; Artanis held her chin high always. It was no show, for who would she be showing for?

Something told her in her heart that she was pardoned, that she might yet go home, and by way of answer she slew a prisoner they had captured. They did not speak to her again, those voices, and she turned her thoughts again to the east.

She loved Celeborn then, and embraced him as she never had before. He called her Galadriel for all that it was night and there was no fire to light her hair about her, and Galadriel she was in Middle-earth. She kissed him hard, and felt again in her blood something like the knowledge of mortality.  
   
   
   
   
v. _on this half-lit day_

She saw the Eye and knew that she had failed. Whether there was any link between these two knowings, even she could not see.

Nerwen stirred within her again when the Company passed through her domain -- had it been so long already? -- but the Eye was burning brighter than ever. Artanis and Galadriel spoke of beauty when she looked upon the Bearer, and Nerwen whispered of strength, as she knew a like voice whispered within one of the Company. She looked at the Son of Gondor, and Nerwen judged him a good ally.

She looked long into her mirror before she spoke alone with the Ringbearer. The water called to her stronger than it had ever done before, and so it was Galadriel who stood before him, in the end, and Galadriel turned his offering away.

They passed on, and her heart sang with voices she thought had forsaken her, or possibly been forsaken by her. She wept in the woods, alone, and with joy in her heart as the water called to her, for she might yet take the Straight Road.  
   
   
   
   
vi. _where have you gone my feather-light heart?_

The ground beneath her feet was familiar, and yet she knew it must somehow have changed. It could not be otherwise -- even the first lands must change. Men had come here, after all, and Men had ways of changing things.

Her daughter met her at the pier, and embraced her. Long they walked together, beneath stars whose light had not shone on this earth when she had left it.

The world was changed, but it was not broken; Galadriel had passed with Middle-earth and would stay with Celeborn, until he might follow her home.

She would yet have another name.


End file.
